A dream come true
by FrankiexDoyle
Summary: Erica Davidson cannot easily forget about Franky Doyle, moreover; she can't at all. Her dreams had become worse since the moment she's been fired and truth be told: she truly misses Franky's provocative ways.. What can she do to keep seeing Franky?
1. Worth a try

Hey! I hope you'll enjoy my story!  
>I do not own any of these characters.<br>Also, there might be a few mistakes sice I've only ever watched the dutch version of Wentworth.  
>For as far as I know there are no differences, but if you notice one: please tell me!<br>**Enjoy!**

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><p>How long had it been? A few weeks? Months? I do not even remember, all I know is that I missed her so uncontrollably much that it nearly drove me mad. I was so stressed and even though my function as lawyer had provided me some sort of safety net I still felt like I had truly and utterly lost it all. My fiancé had been an ass about it. "That prison has changed you!" he had shouted after I had stayed at home for a few days, and he was right, or maybe I had finally become who I was always meant to be, because I found out quite a few things about myself. I found myself more and more reluctant to kiss him, to walk into his embrace and to wake up to his face. He loved me and that's what made it all worse. Whenever I asked myself if I loved him back my thoughts avoided giving an answer and then trailed off to her..<br>I couldn't focus on any cases I followed recently and my life had become a downwards spiral.  
>Some afternoon, I was so done with having to stay away from Wentworth that I actually didn't.<br>"Welcome to Wentworth Correctional Centre, what can I help you with?"  
>I took a deep breath in, afraid to be sent away but at the same time determined to do anything to get in. "I'm looking for Miss Ferguson." I had well prepared a possible conversation with the new governor, but I would lie if I said I wasn't improvising right now.<br>"And what name shall I give her?"  
>I fell silent for a moment or two, because I was seconds away from either success or disgrace.<br>"Madam?" the voice woke me up from my thoughts and I quickly but anxiously replied, "Erica Davidson." The next moment seemed to take an age, but it couldn't be more than a few minutes before the voice replied, "Miss Davidson, come in. I will tell Miss Ferguson you're here." The voice had gone from friendly to quite cold, but I didn't care.  
>I needed a moment to process the relief. Another feeling paired with that and I thought I recognized it as happiness, but I wasn't quite sure. As soon as I entered I looked straight into the eyes of Vera Bennett and as quickly as I caught her glance I looked into another direction as well. Suddenly I started wondering why on earth I had come here. I'd have to face all my former employees and obviously they would look at me like Vera did; reproachful and with grudge. That I was showing my face here again couldn't mean much good for them. I waited, and waited and I was actually ready to leave, to give up all my intentions to go here, so I wouldn't have to feel so unwelcome anymore. But then someone called my name and when I turned around I looked upon the figure I had seen on the television. She was about as tall as a tree and she looked powerful and nonchalant, much unlike myself. She held out a hand, ready to introduce herself, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to take it. This was the woman who had taken my job and upon first seeing her I already knew she was way better at it. That's what I couldn't stand: I wanted to be best at everything.<br>Still, I shook the hand, because after all I was here for her and a proper introduction wasn't more than normal. "Joan Ferguson." Her handshake was firm, like a man's. I already felt sorry for the prisoners. I smiled, or more like grimaced as I introduced myself as well. "Follow me, please."  
>And so we walked through the familiar corridors of Wentworth. Prisoners and guards gave me lingering looks as we walked past and my ears caught whispers, but I loved it. I was showing my face here again. I nearly flaunted, but the presence of Wentworth's governor kept me from doing so. I felt like I was back but I really wasn't, because in a moment I'd be the one sitting on the visitors' side of my former desk. We were nearly there when my eyes linked with a familiar deep blue. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach turned as I received a blinding smile of surprise as well as mischief. The eyes I was looking into sparkled, something that I had missed so badly..<br>I was so captivated by Frankie Doyle that I at some point was getting behind on Ferguson and I had to remind myself to keep up with her pace. Reluctantly, that was.  
>I felt Frankie's eyes linger on my skin and it sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. If only I'd have a moment to talk to her – I blinked a few times and tried to get my mind straight, because I didn't want to spoil my only chance of course. Maybe I would get to talk to her, if I said my things right and showed this new governor I could still mean something for this prison and for Frankie, but of course I wouldn't focus on the last for more than necessary.<br>I followed after Ferguson into an office that I barely recognized. She had given it a cold, extremely ordered look and I almost felt humiliated by it. It was black and anything but welcoming.  
>I nearly fell into my old habit of standing in front of the window behind the desk for a while, before I would get to work, but Ferguson requested me to sit down and so I did. It was odd to sit on the other side of the desk, but when I leaned back in the chair I could almost feel Frankie's warmth – No, no thinking of her now – I sat back up to ban the thought and tried to make as less contact with the chair as I could, leaning with my elbows onto the dark wooden surface of the desk.<br>"I was surprised to hear you were here." Began the governor, eyeing me with piercing dark eyes.  
>What should I say? Perhaps I hadn't prepared this conversation as well as I thought before, perhaps this all was a ridiculous act of desperation and now I had seen the one person I couldn't stand missing I had forgotten all about my actual purpose of being here. Everything that came to my mind seemed like the wrong thing to say, so instead I smiled simply, although that didn't quite match with her words. "Why are you here?" She continued as she noticed I wasn't going to say anything.<br>"I was wondering.." I started hesitantly. No Erica, that insecurity has to stay away for once if you want to stand only a single chance of getting back here, I told myself. I had to be certain of my case, I had to convince Ferguson. I adjusted my tone into one somewhat lower and louder. "I was wondering if I could take up my old function as tutor of Francesca Doyle -" I had to take a moment to handle the nerves before I'd continue my story "- I've taught her for more than a year and it would be a shame to let her talents go to waste."  
>"I'm sure we'll find her another good tutor." Ferguson assured me.<br>How could I be dumb enough to think they'd so easily welcome me back? They didn't want me here at all and they would do anything to keep me as far away as possible, gods I felt so embarrassed.  
>"I would like to finish what I've started and I don't want to see all my hard work go to waste." I defended myself, but I knew this was a battle lost.<br>"Like I said, we will do our best to find a good tutor for Frankie. You don't have to worry about that anymore, Erica, isn't that a relief?" Ferguson's mouth made a little smug twitch; I could see she was enjoying this. I grimaced painfully. Obviously I couldn't tell her I just wanted, maybe even needed time with Frankie, that that's why I was here and that it's what I've been dreaming about for as long as I can remember. For the first time it actually came to my mind that was really desperate.  
>"I'll do it for free." Yes, that's how desperate I was.<br>The governor lifted her eyebrows in surprise and for a moment I seemed to detect suspicion in her eyes, as if they were wordlessly asking me what I was up to. I stared back into them, but I knew it wouldn't take long before I ran out of ability to keep a straight face. I wasn't very good at staring contests.  
>"We'll find another tutor." Concluded the woman in front of me at last.<br>I held back a heavy sigh and flicked my tongue over my lips to moisten them. "Well.." I coughed once, because my voice was trembling "You know how to reach me, should you change your mind."  
>It was more like a standard sentence, the last thing I could say to keep a tiny spark of hope alive.<br>"Thank you for your concern." Ferguson held a hand out again and I shook it stiffly. She made a gesture towards the door. "You will be escorted to the exit. Good day, miss Davidson."  
>I was too sunken in my thoughts, too disappointed to return a 'good day' and so I left without saying a single thing. This had been my last chance and it was wasted now and if I was lucky I'd get to look into that beautiful pair of blue irises once more so that I could dream about them again and again and again for as long as it would take me to forget about Frankie Doyle. But I wasn't going to forget about her, that much was sure.<p>

What I didn't know was that things with Frankie were getting out of hand. She would listen to no one and Ferguson could not so easily handle her stubbornness. The imprisoned woman strongly refused to follow any classes if they weren't from me and Ferguson needed a person who'd have quite an amount of influence on her. A person like myself.


	2. Trouble in paradise

**Author's note:**

**Okay, so this is where it's going to be quite different in storyline from the show.  
>I hope to stay true to the characters, but they're all quite complicated so forgive me if it sucks!<br>At least I enjoy writing (since I miss Erica and Franky together), and I hope you enjoy reading. :)  
>Also, I found out Franky's name is spelled 'Franky' instead of 'Frankie'. Apologies for doing that wrong last time!<strong>

**I believe it's going to be a short chapter.  
>It's going to be about Erica and Mark, because I think their relationship plays an important part for the thing Erica and Franky have. <strong>

**Enjoy!**

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><p>I aimlessly fiddled with my engagement ring. A book laid open on my lap, but I wasn't really reading it. Every now and then I finished half a page, but I didn't make much progress. A delicious smell filled my nose and it dwelled around me for a while; Mark was in the kitchen cooking dinner. I figured he would be done soon, so I picked up the book and swung my legs from the couch. I strolled to the other side of the room to store the book away and placed it on a dark wooden bookshelf next to some books about law. There was a gap in between two of them and I would probably never get back the book that belonged there. My fingers brushed over the wood as if like that I could touch, no relive the moment Franky claimed that particular book as hers more than a year ago. It was the first time I knowingly thought of her since a week's past and despite I was feeling a little better since my last moment at Wentworth, it still hit a nerve.<br>"Erica!" I heard Mark calling from the kitchen.  
>"I'm coming!" I called back, tapping my fingers over the wood once more before I crossed the room.<br>My stomach reminded me of how hungry I was by growling impatiently and as I closed in on the kitchen the delicious smell of food became stronger and stronger. I walked into the kitchen and nearly bumped into Mark who was carrying two plates to the dining table. He made some weird motion to avoid the plates from falling out of his hands. I chuckled and gently said, "Watch out, chef". He was looking rather sweet in his apron and those stupid oven gloves, but even though I wished it would, it gave me no butterflies like it did a few years ago. He was a kind, handsome, romantic man and I loved him – or at least that's what I was still trying to convince myself of ( since the "When you're fucking him, you're thinking of me" moment) – but whenever I asked myself if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, the outcome wasn't very positive. I just.. didn't want to be alone and, yes, using him for it was factually very selfish of me, but selfishness was a well-developed trait I had.  
>Mark had put the plates down on the dinner table and he was pulling the black oven gloves from his hands. I watched him in some sort of trance, but at the same time I didn't seem to be watching him at all, because I was surprised when he stood in front of me all of a sudden. "You're staring." He told me with a warm smile, wrapping his arms loosely around my hips. I blinked a few times and gave him a small and absent smile in return. "Diner's ready." He affirmed before he stole a peck from my lips. I knew where I could get a better kiss than that..<br>We both sat down on one side of the table. "How was your day?" I asked as I picked up my fork and started to stir it through the delicious looking chicken casserole on my plate.  
>"Busy.." He began, and then started telling all about his day. He left nothing out, from the moment he lost his wallet and a friendly stranger returned it to the moment he had so many papers to work through he had no idea where to start. While he spoke I tried my best not to let my mind trail back off to Franky; I was just starting to forget about her.. a little.<br>By the time he finished I had eaten half of the food on my plate. "And how was yours?" he then asked after finally having eaten something himself as well.  
>I sighed softly and answered, "Nothing different.. I've been reading, cleaning up a little.." I shrugged nonchalantly. Mark eyed me for a moment, examining my face with those deep, dark hues. "What's wrong, Erica?" he asked.<br>I was quite done with him asking what was wrong all the time.. He still hadn't accepted things had changed between us, because he desperately clung onto the perfect little life we had.  
>"Nothing.. nothing's wrong, Mark." I answered instantly after he had asked the question. I was so tired of pretending things were all good that it could be heard in my voice.<br>"No, there is. Will you _please_ tell me what is bothering you so much for once?"  
>He started to sound a little frustrated as well. Oh, we've had this conversation so many times, and each and every time it resulted into either of us sleeping on the couch only to spend the next day apologizing to each other and trying to act like nothing had happened. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to tell it all; how the inmate I tutored pressed me up against a wall, how I couldn't go anywhere when she kissed me like he never had and maybe how I had loved it too. I wanted to let it all out and cry, cry a lot, but I couldn't. It would put an end to my life as it was; safe and secure.<br>"I'm just a little stressed, okay?"  
>I had used that excuse too many times and Mark was beyond the point of believing it now.<br>"If there is something I need to know, Erica, tell me now." He sounded compelling.  
>I clenched my fist under the table as all the things that I <em>should<em> tell him flashed through my mind.  
>If I told him about what had happened between Franky and I, he'd be gone, that much was sure. Especially because I wouldn't be able to say I didn't like it. But I was so afraid of being alone..<br>"Please." He added to push me to giving an answer. I had built a pile of held back feelings inside my mind and that pile was about to crash down, but it didn't just yet. I was angry, more at myself than at him, but I could keep it inside.  
>"Mark.." I started, already mentally cursing myself for what I was about to say "I promise you, there's nothing you need to know." I softly assured him. He didn't believe me, I could see that in his eyes and by the way he nodded at me.<br>"You need to stop lying." He replied, picking up his plate to continue his meal in the living room. I started to wonder whether it would have been better to just tell him, because now I knew we would have this conversation again in a few weeks, if not days. I felt extraordinarily blank. I wanted to cry, to _care_, but I simply didn't, because I knew that even now, I still wouldn't be alone; Mark would be there and that was enough for me.  
>I heard the sound of the television and knew I could best leave him be for as long as he was watching it. Therefore I stayed put and finished my meal at the table.<br>I was just storing my plate in the dishwasher when I heard a phone go off. I immediately knew it was mine since Mark and I had a different ringtone. I closed the dishwasher and curiously made way for the living room to pick it up. There I found Mark holding my phone up in the air with the display visible for me. "Give it.." I started, but when I read _'Derek Channing' _on the phone's screen I froze. I hadn't told Mark about my visit at Wentworth and he, too, knew that after all that had happened Derek wouldn't just call me for nothing. Suddenly I realized the call could mean so much for me and that I had to take it no matter what Mark would do to avoid that. I wouldn't let _him_ ruin my chances. "Let me take it." I softly demanded.  
>"Why is he calling you?"<br>"I don't know, let me take it, then I'll know." The words left my mouth in a rush and I stepped forward to take the ringing device from him. My heart was pounding in my chest. He held it out of my reach. "Mark, don't be so childish now, give it up!" I started to grow mad. Maybe in both possible ways; mentally ill and totally angry.  
>After a few more seconds of staring demandingly at him the thing stopped ringing. I shook my head and a heavy sigh left my mouth, "You're unbelievable." But I totally understood why he didn't want me to only even get in touch with people from the prison: it's what had ruined our life together.<br>I snatched the now silent phone from his hands and strolled back to the kitchen to call Derek back. My anger was probably what kept Mark from following me.  
>After having given Channing an excuse – I couldn't find the phone and once I'd found it, it had been too late – I heard what he wanted from me.<br>To make a long story short: I was welcome back.

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><p><strong>Okay, I hope this wasn't too fast-forward!<br>I will reveal more about the phone call next chapter.  
>Also, I don't want Mark to look like an asshole: notice that they've been having some trouble in their relationship before.<br>So there's just loads of tension between the two.**

**Just if you wondered why they were so easily irritated.**

**Please leave a review,  
>and I hope to see you next chapter!<strong>

**x**


	3. So we meet again

**Soo, forgive me for making last chapter suck big time!  
>I hope to make this one better (since I have much more motivation for FrankyxErica moments. ;) )<strong>

**Leave a review if you'd like, I'd really appreciate that.  
>Enjoy!<strong>

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><p>I tuned my car's radio up a little bit in an attempt to tame my unruly mind.<br>It had not given me a moment's rest yet, raging on about how I was going to act in front of Franky and the other way around – something alarmingly unpredictable – about the terms and conditions of taking back my old job; about the drivers in front of me who drove like they had been granted eternal life without rush and sorrow; and last but not least about how I wasn't ready for this at all.

_You are welcome to tutor Franky again, _Derek Channing's low and urgent voice joined the chaos in my mind as I thought back of our phone call. He didn't sound too happy about it, but I couldn't care less.  
>"But.." I said out loud the word that had quite ruined the relief shortly afterward. There was always a 'but'. <em>Since you're the only one Franky seems to be comfortable with, we want you to figure out what she's up to.<em> I sighed heavily, partly because the owner of the ramshackle red Mazda driving in front of me still seemed to have all the time in the world. It annoyed me enough to have me swearing under my breath. I nervously tapped my fingers on the leather of the steering wheel in front of me. My blue irises locked onto my right hand. I wasn't used to it being so empty, so naked. I had deliberately left my engagement ring at home, so that I for once had no reason at all to think of Mark. However I was thinking of him right now, meaning I had failed. Three days ago I heard my old job was waiting for me and where I was very happy about it, Mark didn't share that joy. On the contrary. Not that I'd expected any different from him. There was only one thing sure about our relationship now: we were both merely delaying the end of it, despite that we knew we would end up apart soon anyway.

It took me another vexing sixty minutes of slow driving, gnawing thoughts and growing really, thoroughly impatient before I could finally park my car at the prison.  
>it instantly felt like coming home and I shook my head at that mere thought. It was as though my life with Mark was prison and whenever I was here at Wentworth, I was finally set free.<br>However it wasn't all relief and gladness that I felt; I was nervous to the point my hands were shaking and my stomach turning and swirling. I wasn't just here for Franky, or I _was_, but not supposed to be.  
>They wanted me to figure out things about the drug smuggle, about riots, about pretty much everything Franky could be involved in. It was their way of keeping us apart, I was sure.<br>If I would make my task too obvious to Franky, she would grow suspicious, but if I wouldn't come with information I would be kicked out again. It was so cleverly thought trough that it made my nerves tingle in annoyance. They were using me against her and the most stupid thing was that I was desperate enough to let it happen, just to see that cocky smile and that pair of shimmering deep blue eyes I had grown so fond of.

I took my suitcase from the empty seat next to me, checked my make-up in the rearview mirror and stepped out of the car. The wind outside was cold and it felt as though razors of ice brushed past my face. I took the collar of my long cobalt colored coat and pulled it up a little. My hot breath caused small clouds to leave my mouth. My high heels made a hollow sound as I strolled across the yard.  
>A few minutes later I had myself escorted by no one less than Vera Bennett, a long, awkward walk that didn't seem to have an end. We didn't exchange a single word and the infernal silence was maybe more gnawing than any insult Vera could've given me. Perhaps she knew and that was exactly the reason she kept her mouth shut. Even when we were there she did nothing more than make a gesture towards the room I would find Franky in. When I walked past Vera I forced a smile upon my features, just to show her she wasn't going to bring my spirits down.<p>

"Look who we have here."  
>Hearing the sound of Franky's voice after so long of going without it sent a pleasant shiver to travel down my spine.<br>She, like always, had me captivated just by looking me in the eyes, because she showed me that smile, that one broad and charming smile I could never get enough of and moreover her gorgeous eyes smiled with it. She was sitting on a chair in that haughty way of hers; with her arms enveloped across her chest and one leg leaning on the other.

She hadn't changed and neither had I; it felt like no time had passed.

"Hello, Franky." I tried to sound nonchalant, but a content smile couldn't stay away from my face as I sat down at the table, opposite her. I pulled some paperwork from my suitcase and I could feel I was being stared at. No, not being stared at; Franky was examining my every inch, that cocky smirk still playing on her face. I enjoyed it, and that wasn't a good thing for my sake of being here.

"Why didn't you come say goodbye, Erica?" She then asked, sounding rather earnest all of a sudden and even somewhat hurt if I heard it correctly. Whatever it was, it didn't appeal to me.

I didn't look up from the suitcase as I tried to answer as airily as I could, "I wasn't allowed to." I had expected that question and I didn't care to explain.

"That's bullshit." Franky leaned forward to rest her strong, tattooed arms on the table. She was trying to catch my glance and succeeded. The eye contact gave me goosebumps, because it was intense and it felt like she was looking straight into my soul, as if she was reading my mind and – if she wanted to – controlling it as well. Her eyes were so gorgeously powerful and I felt so horribly attracted to them. Gods, I had nearly forgotten how pretty they actually were.

My heart was pounding in my chest as my glance involuntarily trailed off to her lips. In response I cleared my throat and quickly looked down at the papers in front of me. "So, law.." I mumbled in an attempt to get this conversation going the right way.

"How's the husband?" the cockiness in that melodious voice was back as Franky mused her words. She just plainly ignored my attempt, like I expected her to.

Her question made me look up wide-eyed, my long, blonde hair dancing over my shoulders. Fortunately (or not so fortunately, that strongly depends on the way you look at it) the woman wasn't looking me in the eyes anymore; her glance was set upon my right hand and she seemed all too pleased that there was no ring to be found.  
>I was feeling so many things at the same time; my stomach was still fluttering at how I had missed everything about Franky; I was angry with her, because she so carelessly asked a question that she knew I'd hate to answer; I felt a strong, burning desire to just let this woman drag me to a dark corner and do things to me I had been dreaming of for so long and I felt extremely uncomfortable, because except for Franky everyone pretty much hated me in here. To keep up my professional composure was therefore going to be quite the task.<br>"Let's focus, Franky." I said sternly, picking up a list of books and reaching it out to hand it to her.

Franky clicked her tongue and took it in the clearest way of annoyance I had ever witnessed. She snatched it from my hands and looked at it with an obviously played disinterest.

"We will need the books on that list - " I started, folding my hands together on the table "- I believe they've got them all in here." I fiercely hoped she would quit her flirtatious ways and take up her seriousness for a few moments.

"Is he gone?" She asked, not tearing her eyes from the booklist, however she smirked from ear to ear. Was she going to keep this up until she had an answer? Didn't she notice the hurt in my eyes at a question like that?

I told myself to keep ignoring her questions for as long as they were about me and my life with Mark; as soon as I'd allow her the pleasure of an answer she would use it very cleverly to drive me crazy.  
>"I will see if I can find the books." I pushed myself to my feet and turned away from the table before Franky could even protest. I needed a moment to calm myself.<p>

_You did this to yourself, Erica._ I thought while my hands trailed over the covers of some books on the shelves in front of me. _You wanted to tutor her again._ I shoved a bunch of books aside. _And you knew she would wind you up.._

"I think I've got a book here."

My muscles tensed and I closed my eyes for a second in a natural response to a soft but strong whisper like that. I could feel Franky's warm breath in my neck and she was too close. Too close but by far not close enough, because she could also trail kisses over the skin..

"Franky.." I said her name pleadingly, however I wasn't so sure if it asked her to keep distance or to get closer.. I turned only partially around, because facing her entirely would have me pinned in between her and the bookcase; that could be compared to voluntarily standing in line of fire.

"Erica." She whispered in return and cockily rose an eyebrow whilst biting her lower lip.  
>Why did she have to do that? Why did she have to be so.. appealing?<p>

"Knock it off." The words weren't actually mine, because by all means I didn't want her to knock it off. Therefore it didn't sound too convincing and even if it had: Franky was familiar with my deepest desires more than I was myself.

Franky then took a step closer, pretending to put a book away as she firmly placed one hand on my shoulder, preventing me from going anywhere, and the other on the bookshelf in front of us. Her strong touch made me shiver and I felt the warmth of her hand through the thin fabric of my shirt. I imagined it trailing over my back, teasing and caressing my spine..

"Erica.." she whispered and I could feel her lips brushing against my ear as she bared her stunning white teeth in a grin. My eyes were fluttering closed "We both know why you're here, so don't pretend you want me to 'knock it off' when you actually want me to pin you up against this shelf and make your little dreams come true." She lingered for a few seconds and then moved away in an obnoxiously satisfied and smug way. She paid no further attention to me as she started searching through a few books.

She left me at my weakest; yearning for her to touch me again. She was so ably in her provocative and flirtatious ways; she knew exactly when to push it a little further and when to stop. Her every move was with confidence and all her facial expressions were well-placed. I was pathetic in my pre-emptive ways, my moves were nervous and my expressions always depended on what Franky did or said. She controlled me. It's what I loved as well as despised.

I stood there, with my hands clutching some books, my knees wobbly and my mind unsettled.  
>I took a deep breath and absentmindedly ran my fingers over the books' covers. Was I going to be able to concentrate on teaching now? Gods, I wouldn't be able to look at Franky without thinking of what she just said.<p>

We had retrieved the needed books and now sat at the table again. Franky was browsing through one of them and she had picked up quite a serious attitude now. She was frowning a little, trying to concentrate on what she was reading and apparently I was staring, because she suddenly looked up at me. She sent me a grin and asked, "What?"

My glance instantly shot down to the table, because I didn't want to ruin this one moment of actual progress and replied, "Nothing."

"You were staring at me." She insisted, flicking her tongue over her snowy white teeth as she leaned forward. Those amused sparks had returned in her eyes and when she shut the book and put it aside I knew I _had_ ruined the progress.

"I wasn't." I said, a little irritated.

Franky chuckled. The dimples her cheeks showed looked so sweet on her and despite I prevented my lips from doing so, my eyes still smiled at them. How could I watch something I loved so much about her without showing affection?

"Franky, we were just on the right way.." I said, trying to bring back her serious side as I picked up the book and held it out for her.

"I don't get what it says.." Franky prosed.

I knew that wasn't true. She was really clever and I could see in her eyes she was up to something.  
>"Just focus."<p>

"Can't you explain?" She lifted her brows and eyed me quizzically. I couldn't ignore that look.

"What don't you get?" I gave in with a small sigh.

"Page 33." she nodded at the book I was still holding and leant back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her face showed a certain form of anticipation and I didn't want to know the reason why.

I searched for the page and once I'd found it my eyes fell upon a heading, _divorces_.  
>This was too confronting; it felt like a stab in the gut and I felt truly, really angry at Franky for once.<br>I closed the book at once and looked up at Franky, my jaw clenched and my glance stern as I shook my head. She was going too far with this obvious reference to my relationship.

Franky only smirked at me, making a motion with her head as if silently demanding the 'explanation'.

"This isn't funny, Franky." I said earnestly. "If you aren't going to take this seriously, I have no reason of still being here."

"I _am_ taking this seriously!" she assured me, but I'd had it with her little games.

Despite I didn't really love Mark anymore and I thought of leaving him every single day, Franky's airy jokes about it still hit a highly sensitive nerve. This was a topic too personal and the worst was that she knew it and took advantage of it.  
>"We're done for today." I mumbled and started collecting my stuff.<p>

"No, we're not. We still got a quarter left!" Franky jumped up from her chair to lean over the table. "You're deliberately not wearing that fucking ring, Erica, and if you wanted to pretend like you two were all happy with each other you _should have_."

She had a point there, like she always had a point when she wanted to make something clear to me.  
>I wasn't going to fuel such a discussion, however, so when I'd collected everything I had brought and put it back in my suitcase, I looked up at her and asked, "What do you even care?", before I turned on my heels and started strolling to the door.<p>

"I want to see you happy, Erica, and you're obviously not!" she called after me. For a moment it sounded as though she meant it, if it wasn't for that smug undertone she used. However it still managed to soothe my anger, because I fell for her tricks just like that.

The next day we'd have to start all over and I hoped with whole my heart Franky had learned from today; I really didn't want to be angry with her.

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><p><strong>So, I hope this chapter was a little better than the last.<br>It's just hard to judge my own writing and I feel like other fics are so much better..  
>However I hope you enjoyed reading and please leave a review if you did!<br>Would be truly appreciated.**

**See you next chapter,**

**x**


	4. Freakshow

**For this chapter I've changed one thing (or involuntarily a few) to the actual storyline of season 2!**

**I think I'm now 100% sure where I want to go with this fic,  
>so I hope you're all just as excited as I am! <strong>

**Like I said before, I greatly appreciate reviews.  
>Enjoy!<strong>

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><p>I impatiently tapped my fingers over the dark wooden service of the desk in front of me. My eyes trailed over every pen, every book, every pencil that was laying there so perfectly ordered and it almost gave me the urge to shift one of the pencils in front of me just a little bit out of place.<br>Just to see if she would notice..  
>I slightly turned my head to look at the clock on the wall behind me, 9 am. Or at least that's how I saw it, but for someone like Joan Ferguson it was 8:59 am. I had arrived here five minutes too early and the four minutes I had been waiting now were no doubt the longest four minutes in my life.<br>There was nothing for me to do but wait. I was alone and the office was dead silent.  
>My eyes fell upon the little plastic holder that probably stood in one line with the side of the computer behind it. I wanted to take a closer look at one of the business cards that it held and reached out to take one, but I immediately withdrew my hand as I heard the door open behind me. It had to be exactly 9 am.<p>

"Erica.." Ferguson walked up behind me "You were early".

I frowned a little and it was a good thing she did not sit in front of me yet, because my puzzled expression could never appeal to her. "Five minutes.." I carefully retorted.

Ferguson now stood in my line of sight; she looked her usual. Her thick, dark hair was tightly tied back in a bun, her uniform was spotless and her badge shone imposingly. She was cogent and she always held that dismal atmosphere around her.

"That _is_ early." She insisted sternly as she lowered herself in her chair. For a moment it seemed to me she even tried to sit in the exact middle of the seat.

I knew better than to argue and so my only mark of protest was the little twitch one corner of my mouth made.

"We have a few things to discuss." Ferguson's eyes were penetrating. Like a hawk's; that never let its prey slip out of sight. She took a document from a neat pile and placed it in front of her, needless to say parallel to the edge of the desk. It was getting on my nerves.  
>"I took a look at your file.."<p>

Only now I saw my name written on the front. It made me a little agitated.  
>Surprisingly enough I had never actually taken a good look at that file and who knew what had been written in it since my resignation? Were we here to talk about me?<br>We had half an hour before I'd have my session with Franky..

"It looks as though you're a person I can get along with." There was something about the smile I received that made me highly doubt it, but if that was all she had to say about the file, I was perfectly fine with it. "Now, first of all, did Francesca tell you anything at all about drug smuggle or.. any incidents?"

I had tried to subtly collect the information, but apparently my ways were too subtly; I knew nothing more than she probably did. Besides it had only been a week. I knew out of experience that it was by far not enough time to get Franky talking about secret matters. It had taken her half a year to tell me her mother was an alcoholic, let alone that the woman used to quench cigarettes on her skin.  
>"She is not really an open book." I replied. <em>More like a book with a dozen locks<em>, I thought.

"I figured." Ferguson agreed, but she didn't sound all too patient. "You do understand that we need information shortly. We are trying to do it the nice way now, but should that not work, we will have to do it the hard way."

I didn't know what her definition of _the hard way_ was, but I knew it was definitely no tickling. With this I realized fetching the information wasn't only for my sake, but for Franky's too.  
>That's also when I realized I had walked into a trap. Of course 'the hard way' was Ferguson's method of preference and I wasn't going to be able to stop her, because we both knew no one would ever get the information out of Franky. Not even me.<p>

"Maybe Franky has nothing to do with it.." I suggested, but of course that made no sense.

Ferguson scoffed and queried, "Do you even believe that yourself?"

Of course I didn't. I knew Franky. I knew she always wanted to stand on the edge of crossing the limits. I knew she was always looking for adventure, for danger and I knew she had everything to do with the drug smuggle, because there was a master mind behind it.  
>My expression said enough.<p>

"That's what I thought." Ferguson concluded. She folded her hands together on the desk and leaned forward a little, eyeing me sternly. "I know you care for her, but you might want to watch out with that.." it was as though every clearly spoken word went from my ears straight to my stomach, because they made me more nervous one by one.

I didn't know where this was going. She looked at me with such a glance that made me think she knew _everything _about me. Every little detail, my manners, my methods, my habits, my feelings..  
>They were so discomforting that I stuttered when I said, "We have no.. I mean, I don't.."<p>

"Don't worry, Erica, I'm sure you're clever enough to keep a professional distance. The last thing we want is growing emotionally attached to a _prisoner_, not?"

I nodded.  
>I had no idea what Ferguson was trying to reach anymore. What was her point? Did Franky tell her anything? I saw no reason why she would. I told myself Ferguson was probably just playing a mind game. Until I noticed she was reaching something out to me; open envelopes. I pulled my brows into a frown as I asked, "What's that?"<p>

Ferguson merely nodded at the objects in her hand, insisting for me to take them. I leaned forward and took the envelopes. They all had _Erica Davidson_ written on them in that neat but playful handwriting I instantly recognized. Franky had tried to write me.. and truth be told, I had to force back a smile.

I wasn't sure what exactly to think of it at first. It meant it had been as hard for her to forget about me as it had been the other way around. What should I expect of the content? I couldn't read it from Ferguson's face. She probably wouldn't look any different even if she won the lottery.  
>I wanted to read the letters inside, I really did but I also really didn't. The envelopes had been opened, meaning someone else had read them too. I suspected it had been the person in front of me.<p>

"Read them and you'll know why I am warning you.."

So Ferguson _had _read them. And they were bad in one way or another:  
>I had my suspicions..<p>

I pulled out one of the letters, unfolded it and tried to keep my hands from shaking nervously as I read to myself:

_Dear Erica,_

_You could've told me you were leaving?  
>I had to hear from Doreen that you were fired. I was pretty upset, you know.<br>I mean, the other girls all need drugs and shit but I need my one hour of Erica.  
>The library is such a stupid place without your stunning presence and I really miss hearing your voice.<em>

.. I felt a little flattered so far, but I quite managed to keep on a poker face..

_You helped me so much in so many ways. We were a great team, a perfect couple and now you're gone. Did they fire you because of Jacs? You could've done nothing to prevent that..  
>Shit, we were just getting started, you know? I mean, if I'd known you'd be gone now I wouldn't have left it by just a kiss in your office. Do you think about that a lot? Because I do.<em>

_I hope you're going to write me back, but take your time. I've got a few years to wait._

_Franky_

Ferguson had read this? Was the first thing I thought when I finished reading. That meant she knew about the kiss. If she believed it was a second, but she _knew_ about it. A feeling of panic rose.

"She's quite fond of you." Ferguson said when she realized I was done reading despite I was still staring at the letter. I could feel the tension lingering in the air.

"Apparently." I mused without tearing my eyes from the words. I tried to sound surprised, but that didn't really work out. However the panic combined with the feeling of flattery and perhaps even some mutual fondness didn't show through.

"And she mentions a kiss.." Ferguson's urgent tone had reached a higher level and I could almost literally feel the pressure on my shoulders.

"She must have a very rich imagination." I was surprised at how calm and cold I sounded. It didn't reflect how I was feeling at all. I finally looked up and put the letter on the desk, grimacing shortly.

"Why did she write this to you?" it was like Ferguson wanted to hear something from me. Some sort of confession; she wanted a reason to put me aside. I was absolutely sure of one thing right now: she hadn't agreed with Derek on giving me back my job. Maybe she felt threatened.. or maybe I was the reason she couldn't do things her way, _the hard way _now. I felt quite proud of that position.

"You're asking the wrong person." I answered innocently.

Ferguson eyed me suspiciously. Obviously I hadn't given her what she was looking for, however that disappointment was hard to detect.

"You can go." She made a dismissive gesture.

"Oh, and Erica.." once I was at the door the sound of her voice stopped me.  
>".. don't forget what you're here for." She was suddenly all pleased with herself again and I left with the image of a modest grin upon her dark features.<p>

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><p><strong>So that was (a very short) chapter 4!<br>Leave a review if you like. :)  
>I hope you enjoyed this part as much as I did!<strong>

**Until next chapter**

**X **


	5. The same old story

**The story goes on..  
>Feel free to leave a review after reading. :)<strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Don't forget what you're here for.<br>_The words echoed through my head as I padded my high heels over the cold floor of the prison.  
>They made a hollow sound on the concrete underneath my feet. No, today I wouldn't forget what I was here for. Today I would take my task seriously. Simply because I had to.<p>

"Miss Davidson?"  
>Both Fletch, who grumpily escorted me, and I stopped walking at once and we synchronously turned around as a response to my name being called. My blue irises linked with the bronze ones that were Bea Smith's.<p>

"Yes?" I furrowed my perfectly shaped eyebrows in light surprise.

"Could you ask Franky to visit me after you're done?" Bea sounded quite unfriendly and I assumed something was going on between the two. I wondered, and moreover feared for, what it was.

"Of course." I mused slowly, suspiciously.

"Thank you." Bea grimaced curtly and turned on her heels. I looked after her as she walked away and suddenly I wondered where that frightened, slightly reckless but kind and caring woman, as I remembered her, had gone to. That part of her had been gone for a long while I knew, but only now I seemed to realize and _see_ it.

We continued our stroll until we reached the prison's small library. Through the window I spotted Franky; she was browsing through a book, her pen was stuck between her pearly white teeth and I loved to see how concentrated she was. I almost felt reluctant to disturb that concentration, because it was rare and sometimes even non-existent whenever I was present.  
>Fletch stayed no second more than necessary and left as soon as I had passed the library's doorpost. He was still mad at me, for a reason I had never figured, but he seemed to be mad at everyone nowadays.<p>

"Ah, there we have my favorite woman in the world." Franky showed me that dashing, confident smile as she plucked the pen from between her teeth.

I smiled slightly and shook my head, perching on the seat opposite the coaxer.  
>"I see you're busy." I remarked approvingly, taking a peek at the book. Upon one glance I could see it was one of her study books and I was happily surprised.<p>

"Yeah.." Franky's eyes flashed down at her notes for a split second, "but I'll make some time for you." Once again that smile.. Even after having seen it so many times, it still made my stomach flutter in fondness.

I avoided looking Franky in the eyes, to prevent my cheeks from turning a bright red shade. As a result my hues landed on her notes; so neatly written. It made me think of her letters, of which she didn't know I had read them, and perhaps it would have been better if I had just looked her in the eyes.  
><em>Don't forget what you're here for, <em>I thought once more.  
>"So, last time we finished with-" I mused, taking a closed book from the small pile on the table in front of me. "- private law, was it?"<p>

"Yeah, labor.." Franky sighed softly, like always when I got to business instead of jumping in on an edgy discussion. We made a fair amount of progress the first half of our hour. Yes, Franky threw in some provocative remarks every now and then, but I was quite happy with the way I handled it and the commitment she showed.

While Franky was busy making notes on the subject, I leant back in my chair and stared through the window into the hallway. I watched prisoners and correctional officers pass by, with some of which I crossed glances. From the corner of my eye I spotted a tall appearance towering over the person who walked next to her; Vera and Ferguson were walking past the library. Upon seeing the governor, I remembered I still didn't have any information on the drug smuggle and I was running out of time. Ferguson's eyes caught my glance. They were cold, meaningful and daring me to take action. Obviously I was giving her a hint of slight panic; my face had gone blank upon the realization and I was hastily trying to formulate a subtle way to gain some knowledge.

I softly cleared my throat to get Franky's attention and leant forward a little. I had gotten her out of her concentration again. She stared up at me, her dark eyebrows raised in query. Her pen was still on the paper and she was ready to continue her work; should she want to. I was thoroughly reluctant to spoil that motivation.

"I heard from miss Ferguson that the prison is almost drug-free." I lied, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked Franky in the eyes. I had no idea if this was the right way to start, or if it was even the right moment to start.. But did that even exist with someone as sharp and suspicious as Franky?

She dropped her pen on her notebook, sat up straight, slightly cocked her head and bared her teeth in a derisive laugh. "She'd wish.." was her reply. Her eyes radiated amusement.

"So it's not?" I narrowed my eyes a little, trying to show interest moreover curiosity. Maybe my tone of voice was a level too interrogating, too curious; maybe Franky already knew I was more than just interested.

She crossed her arms, flicking her tongue over her teeth. The corners of her mouth made a twitch downward and she curtly shook her head. "Nah."

She had answered my question so it was fair enough, but I could do absolutely nothing with it; I was just horrible at this kind of thing. What was I going to say now? My attempt had been killed by Franky's blunt and airy responses. It remained silent for a few seconds too long and that's why Franky furrowed her eyesbrows questioningly; obviously she wondered if that was it.

"Why did you mention it?" her eyes demanded an honest answer, but I couldn't give one. Under no circumstances.

"I'm just curious." I mumbled and flashed her a smile. I was a terrible liar.

"Just curious my ass.." Franky retorted, shaking her head. "_Why_ did you mention it?" She followed wherever my glance went, making sure I had no other choice than to look at her.

"I wondered if it was true-" I started to defend myself.

"You did?" Franky once again smiled mischievously, "You suck at lying, Erica."

"Franky.." I pleaded. A soft sigh rolled over my slightly parted lips.

"You might think I was all concentrated on the book-" she nodded at the work in front of her "- but by now you should know I always keep an eye on you.." She whispered, smirking whilst she wiggled her brows up and down once, digging her teeth in her lower lip for a moment before she continued, "I don't know what your deal is with that freak, but you can't trust her." The woman glanced around for any near officers – there was only one, but she was talking to another prisoner on the other side of the room – and then leant over the table to bring her face no more than a few inches from mine. "Whatever she wants from you, she's using you. You shouldn't let her."

She was close enough for me to see every little detail in her oceanic eyes, to feel her warm and steady breaths against my pale skin, to feel the vibration of her voice and to truly notice the beauty of her face. It would only take a small motion to close the distance..

I blinked a few times, wondering what on earth I was thinking. No, I couldn't deny that I'd love to close that gap and kiss her, but we were in the library; a common room, but moreover: an _officer_ was present and I simply _wasn't supposed to_.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The whisper had left my mouth before I realized it. I wasn't even sure if the words were mine; they sounded calm, confident and distant. I noticed that I had been clenching my fists under the table and my knuckles hurt from the pressure.

Franky moved away, leaning back in her chair and she remarked coldly, "You're fooling yourself."  
>There was no trace left of her amusement, of her mischievous glance or her smirk; she was dead serious again and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.<p>

The last quarter of our hour she spent browsing through her study book. I spent it trying to re-organize the mess inside of my head. Franky had done it again; she had caused confusion, guilt while I had no reason to feel guilty and desire.. a burning one that would take hours to fade out this time. How I cursed the damned fact that she was in prison.

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><p><strong>Okay, so I get more and more ideas for this fic within every day haha,<br>but I only have so much time to write. :(  
>Please don't blame me if it takes some time for me to upload my chapters.<br>I hope you enjoyed this one! I surely did enjoy writing it and here's a  
>little promise: I'm planning on a little Frerica cuteness next chapter. ;)<strong>

**So see you then!**

**X **


	6. Take my hand

**Here comes a Frerica chapter! ^.^  
>Bear with me, I've got my fingers taped together; so expect some typos.<br>(Damned soccer)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>I made my regular way toward the small lunchroom of the prison, where I'd drop my coat and meet my escort. I hoped fervently that not Vera nor Fletch would walk me to the library; those walks were long and stiff ones that were enjoyed by no one. My morning had been a considerably rough one until now; Mark and I had gotten into a fight worse than the ones before. Eventually he had left to stay over at a friend's and I had been sitting at the dining table, blankly staring in front of me with my hands trembling on the dark wood of the table. I had cried for half an hour and sobbed for a quarter more. That was before anger flooded through my veins, before I tossed my engagement ring in the trashcan..<br>It was safe to say that emotionally I couldn't take much today.

"Erica?" was Linda Miles' first word of surprise upon seeing me enter the room.

I frowned a little, eyeing her questioningly.  
>"Hello to you too." I grumbled.<p>

"What are you doing here?" The genuine wonder in the blonde's voice confused me.

"I'm here to tutor Franky, like usual." I replied as though it was the most obvious thing imaginable, which it _was _to me. The surprise on Linda's face didn't fade upon that answer however. It made me grow suspicious. What was going to make this day an even darker shade of black?

"They didn't inform you?" She took her freshly made coffee and set it down on the large table in the middle of the room. Then she perched on a chair and plucked a random magazine from a pile, looking up at me as she awaited an answer.

"Inform me? Of.." I shook my head once to dismiss some confusion from my mind and continued, "..of what?" I detected some gravity on her features. With the events of that morning fresh inside my mind, I wanted clarity for the rest of the day. I wasn't here to hear about changes, about earnest events or whatever Linda was talking about. I was ill-tempered, irritable _and _I was here to just do my job.

"There's been a riot. If you had arrived here about half an hour earlier, you would've been in the middle of it." She explained matter-of-factly, taking a sip from her coffee.

I plainly stared at her for a few seconds, trying to understand what exactly it had to do with my hour with Franky. Until I figured; she had of course been one of the protagonists. So she was probably locked up in solitary confinement? I hoped not. _Sure, let's not inform Erica on something she should definitely know about! _I thought to myself and sighed softly.  
>"What happened?" I mused. My face had gone from expressing confusion to expressing worry and suddenly I was determined to know where Franky was, what she did and if I could see her. My demanding attitude wasn't very fair opposite Linda, but I really couldn't help it.<p>

"Pretty regular fight. We don't know the cause yet. Some got badly injured.."

"And Franky?" I interfered, not exactly caring about the whole story.

"Like I said.." Linda took another sip from the coffee, heaving a little sigh before she finished, "Some got badly injured." She did not bother to hide the annoyance in her voice.

My lips were slightly parted as I blankly gazed into the void of the room. The words had hit me like a bullet in the gut and, considering the earlier events, I needed to take a lot of effort to keep my wits together. I swallowed once and the corners of my mouth made a nervous twitch. So Franky was hurt? My heart pounded in my chest like a small fist was banging against the inside of my ribs and my mind processed a hundred thoughts at a time.  
>"Escort me to the medical unit." I demanded in all my rush, making Linda look up at me with incredulity at my tone of voice. I didn't care that I shouldn't talk to her like that; I just wanted to know if Franky was okay.<p>

"I'm having a break." Linda retorted in a clear dislike of my attitude. She pulled her shoulders in a dismissive shrug, broke eye contact and focused on the magazine. I looked at her for a few more moments before I decided I didn't need an escort. Trying to convince her would only be a waste of time. The medical unit wasn't that far away and after a riot, the women most likely weren't looking for more trouble. Or so I hoped, because taking off alone _did_ make me awfully uncomfortable.

The distance between the lunchroom and the unit was longer than I had guessed so optimistically and all the curious glances greatly unsettled me. However all I could _really_ worry about now was Franky. I had pushed the whole thing with Mark to a place somewhere in the back of my mind and all that concerned me was what 'badly injured' could possibly mean.

"Erica!" I vaguely heard from one of the rooms I passed. Despite the voice sounding weak to my ears, I could still recognize Vera's in it. "Where are you going?" the deputy governor hurried out of the room and into corridor, standing there as she watched me walk. "Are you crazy? Where is your escort?" I could hear her high heels coming after me and therefore I turned around.

"I'm going to the medical unit." I gritted out at the small woman.

"You shouldn't go marching around without one of the -"

"I'm still in one piece, Vera." I cut her off and when I noticed I had made a point, I turned on my heels and continued my rush, leaving an abashed Vera behind. Truth be told, my determination surprised me too. Once I had finally reached the medical unit, I took a deep breath and carefully entered the room. I was afraid of what to encounter. Rose, the nurse, was running about to keep up with the unusually high amount of women she had to deal with this time.

"Miss Davidson…" she started as she hurried to the other side of the room. She was the only one who still called me 'miss Davidson', the only one who still took the effort to be somewhat polite to me. Meanwhile my eyes darted around hastily in search for the unmistakable, sharp features that were Franky's. "what can I help you with?" Rose had made her way back to where I stood and she now looked at me questioningly.

"I'm here for Franky." I replied softly, in a little voice that only just gave a hint of how much I was trying to keep my emotions inside.

"Oh, good." The petite woman heaved a sigh, "She's been a pain in the ass, wouldn't calm down unless we called _you_."

"Then why didn't you?" I retorted sharply. The very fact that Franky had asked for me sounded like music to my ears.

"Because.." Rose began, but after a few seconds she seemed to realize there hadn't really been a reason. "Uhm, she's over there." Rose quickly pointed into the direction of one of the beds before she started fiddling with some bandage. My question remained unanswered, but right now that wasn't my biggest concern.

"Thank you." I walked further into the room, my high heels making a hollow sound, and stopped at about two or three feet away from Franky's bedside. It wasn't hard to see she had been in a fight; a small area around her left eye was a dark blue, her lower lip had swollen from a firm punch, you could still see her nose had been bleeding and she had a stitch running through her eyebrow. Her face had colors from blue to red to purple all over it. I slightly cocked my head to the side as I slowly and involuntarily stepped closer. Franky's eyes were shut and despite all those bruises she looked peaceful, which made me smile sadly. I swallowed back a lump in my throat; I hated to see her like this. Without the dashing confident smirk, without the deep oceanic hues to drown in and above it all without her voice that'd cast a spell upon me by telling me how glad she was to see me. She looked so vulnerable and I remembered how she had once asked me to make her father come over, how that confident, independent woman had turned into the vulnerable, hurt ten-year-old that was hidden deep down. She wouldn't ask for him now, but she needed someone nonetheless, because she had that look upon her features once more. I blinked my eyes a few times, because I realized tears were growing in their corners. I cared too much about this woman for my own good.

I pulled a chair from a small table and sat down beside the hospital bed. My eyes studied Franky's damaged face. _She's still beautiful_, the words echoed through my head_._ I looked around once to see where Rose was, but I couldn't find her anywhere in the room anymore. I doubtfully reached a hand out to take Franky's left, non-bandaged one. It was everything but the 'professional distance' Ferguson had been talking about, but at the very moment I couldn't care less. I cared about Franky, more than I would ever dare to admit and I wasn't going to carry through my distant attitude in this situation.

Her hand was cold and it made a shiver roll down my spine. As my blue irises were still locked on her face, I noticed one corner of her mouth twitching up a little bit in a painful but genuine smile. Her eyelids were slowly lifting and suddenly my favorite blue stared back at me.

"Go away, I look like crap.." She remarked in a hoarse, weak and pained voice, but with that joking and mischievous undertone still noticeably present. She tried to smirk, but a grimace was all that wouldn't pain her too much. It was amazing how Franky remained Franky at all times, no matter what she was going through and I had no other choice than to radiate a modest smile.

"You could say that.." I whispered.

"Well, _thank you_." Was her quasi-hurt reply as she glanced down at our hands, upon which I realized I was still holding hers. She made sure to fully bring my attention to the hands as well before she quirked her stitched brow at me and smiled exultantly.

My eyes quickly darted to my lap, but I already felt my cheeks heat up a little.  
>What on this earth was I thinking when I took it?<p>

"No really, thank you." Franky repeated, but this time she was genuinely thanking me for something. I could almost feel her glance burn on the back of my hand.

I uttered a chuckle. "For what?" I breathed, shrugging my shoulders as I still kept my gaze from crossing hers.

"For being here, for me." She used that tone.. that tone of which I couldn't say whether she was _really _meaning it or if she wanted me to _believe_ she meant it.

I casually shook my head, unsure of how to react, with my hand still trapped in hers. I wanted to withdraw it, but her grasp was strong. Strong but soft as she caressed her fingers past mine.  
>I looked up and opened my mouth to say something, but Franky cut me off before I could even begin talking.<p>

"And don't say it's nothing, 'cause it isn't. Finally someone's _fucking_ here for me when I need it." The frustration was still there.. The pan with oil, the moment with her dad. It hadn't helped at all; she was still angry.

For a slight moment, I simply stared at the deeply rooted frustration on Franky's face. At those eyes that were visibly fighting back the tears that were burning behind it. It even made her lips quiver a little. "Well, Boomer –"

"_Fuck that!_" Franky interfered again and I wisely held my mouth, "She doesn't understand a single fucking thing of what I'm going through.."

I grimaced lightly. "Franky.."  
>It was safe to pull my hand away now; she wasn't really clinging onto it anymore.<p>

"You understand me as the person I am, Erica." She eyed me nearly pleadingly, but I had fallen for her little flattery before and I had promised myself to be more careful this time.

"I'm a social worker –"  
>"This has nothing to do with your fucking job! Why do you always have to hide behind that?" I blamed her sullen anger on the riot, so I would take the yelling lightly, but this was about to turn into one of our never ending discussions.<p>

"We've talked about this many times," I shook my head, "I'm not going to talk about it again." I felt a little more confident now than I usually would; Franky wouldn't be able to get to me without cringing in pain. I had this guarantee that she wouldn't do what she did last time..

She shook her head and exhaled a disapproving sigh, "You're either hiding or avoiding _us_.. When are you going to be honest with me?"

Those words hit me like a bomb, mainly because she suddenly sounded so broken. It was a trick, I was sure, but it worked just perfectly. I remembered how Mark had asked me the exact same question. How could I be honest with him or with Franky, if I wasn't even being honest with myself?

"When, Erica?" She tried to catch my glance again.

I really needed some sort of escape route, a way out of having to answer her question.  
>That way out came just in time.<p>

"Erica, I would like to see you in my office." It didn't take me long to recognize Ferguson's growling and it was too much of a relief to me that I didn't even worry about _why_ I had to go to her office.  
>When I turned around I saw her standing about two feet away from the door; this room was 'full of bacteria' of course, you shouldn't get too close.<p>

When I stood up I gave Franky a last glance. She eyed me bitterly and it gave me a hollow feeling, however I was still ever so glad to be saved from the situation. It was when I actually followed Ferguson that I started wondering and moreover worrying. She hadn't given me a single hint of a smile yet, nor had she said a word. Her strides were firm, but nothing compared to her expression.  
>Then I asked myself:<p>

What could be earnest enough that Ferguson would personally get me for?

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><p><strong>I'm so sorry for the wait!<br>School is awfully time-consuming..  
>I'm in all honesty not very happy with this chapter, but I hope you lovelies enjoyed it nonetheless.<br>Please leave a review if you did! **

**p.s. Thanks a lot for the reviews I've received so far! They really keep my motivation alive. :) **


	7. The big boss

**Soo,  
>I've been messing things up a little bit, so I have no idea if things still sound a little logically?<br>Well, I just keep on writing and hoping and hoping you guys like the fiction. ;) **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>I subtly perched on the chair that was waiting for me in Ferguson's office. The woman herself had already taken a seat, leaning her elbows on her desk. She folded her hands together and plainly looked at me for a few moments. Her glance was unsettling, like ever, and her dark eyes accused me of something. I blinked a few times, reluctant to keep eye-contact.<p>

Without really moving Ferguson mused, "Holding hands with a prisoner?" she sounded seriously disgruntled. It stood in contrast with the tranquility on her dark features.

"How do you.." I sputtered in surprise, clenching my jaw in an attempt to keep my face straight. _This was it_, I thought. She could take her chance now, report it to Derek and then I'd be lost; I could never deny it. How stupid had I been? Dragged away by emotion? Once again that'd cost me my head.

"Have you forgotten about the camera's, miss Davidson?" She moved back in her chair in one slow motion and only kept one hand on the desk to tap her fingers over it.

The damned fucking camera's!  
>"I was merely.." I began but Ferguson cut me off: "I thought you would keep a professional distance".<p>

"I was!" I retorted sharply, "There's a difference between being unprofessional and being a _person_." I was going to defend myself with all my might.

Actually, Ferguson seemed a little taken aback by my sudden nerve, but soon became clear to me that she had only taken a moment to make me realize I had actually involuntarily risen to my feet. Upon that realization, my confident demeanor disappeared like snow in the rain. My eyes fluttered to the ground and I had no idea where to leave my hands. Then, Ferguson stood up as well. She towered over me, looking down at me with one dark eyebrow crooked upwards.

"We don't hold hands with prisoners." Her airy tone was so, so obnoxious. I kept staring into those cold, dark eyes. They were like deep ravines; looking into them made you vulnerable and one little loss of balance would have you falling and falling until you hit the cold hard ground. "This is _prison_, Erica, each and every one of the women in here did something horrible, something society fears them for. We can't afford to treat them lightly. They have to be punished."

I snorted, chuckling humorlessly. "You can't treat them like animals! These women have feelings, rights, just like we do! Franky looked horrible and -"

"Have you ever seen that man she covered in boiling hot oil? Doyle will soon get that pretty face of hers back, but that man is scarred for life. Have you ever even considered that?"

It seemed so unfair to use that against her, but it was no more than the truth.  
>However there was so much more to Franky than a pretty face and a fierce temper. Ferguson simply didn't bother to look beyond that; a mistake I had made.<p>

As a lawyer, I did have my retort at the ready however, "Shouldn't you try to change their attitude? They will only grow more angry when you treat them like garbage. In a few years they will have to go out there again. How are you going to prepare them for that?"

"Erica.." Ferguson sighed shortly. It sounded quite humiliating; like I was a stubborn child with ridiculous ideas. "We want them to hate this place. They should spend every day desperately counting down the minutes until the end of their sentence, so they will do anything to stay out of here next time."

I sighed impatiently, "They should be prepared for life outside.. You can't just throw them into a world they don't know and expect they are going to turn out just fine!" A little debating wouldn't do any harm and I _was_ going to defend my statement.

"If your methods had worked, Erica, _you_ would have been the one standing on this side of the desk right now, not?" the left corner of Ferguson's mouth made a little, smug twitch.

This wasn't valid and I knew it; the prison still knew the problems it had known during my time. I knew that even under Ferguson's regime, Bea would have killed Jacs and Franky had told me enough about Fletch and Jackson getting out of hand. Only Vera seemed to be truly happy with the things as they were right now.

"You have to adjust your attitude, it's not like you can't be replaced." Ferguson concluded. She adjusted a pile of paper on the corner of her desk and then wiped a little piece of dust from the dark surface before she sat down again.

"Can't be replaced?" I pulled my eyebrows upwards, "If Franky doesn't finish her study, it won't be very good for the reputation of the prison. She has always been the showpiece."

"She can finish her study without you." Ferguson grimaced at me.

"If it was that simple, I don't think I would've been here." I replied sharply.

A knock echoed through the room and when I looked around, I saw Channing marching into the office. He nodded at me, mumbling an unfriendly "Erica" before he brought his attention to Ferguson. "You asked for me?"

"Yes." The woman answered smugly, folding her hands together. I read some sort of weird anticipation from her face. It was an expression that made me want to leave the office. "Miss Davidson here isn't really keeping the distance you require of your employees."

Dammit, this was about me.

I looked out of the window, because I didn't want either of their glances to cross mine.

After a short silence Ferguson continued, "She holds hands with prisoners."  
>For fuck's sake. As if I was always walking around with any of the women at my hand. I snorted silently at that very thought.<p>

"Erica.." My glance was drawn to Derek's wrinkled face as he said my name.

"I was comforting Franky." I shrugged with my words, pulling an expression that showed it wasn't much of a big deal and that Ferguson was making it so much worse than it was.

"You were _comforting_ her?" He pulled a brow up.

"She's beat up, someone had to take a little bit of care!" I explained myself. My voice had risen a tone.

"Rose is not doing her job well enough?"  
>"Oh, come on, I'm her tutor!" <em>always hiding behind your job,<em> Franky's words echoed through my mind and it unsettled a nerve in my stomach.

"Yes, you're supposed to teach her things. That's what you're good at, that's why I wanted you back.. You're not her counselor." Derek explained.

"Well, the women don't have one.." The sound of my voice had dropped a few levels in volume. Upon a quick glance at Ferguson I could see she was utterly enjoying this.

"They don't need one either. This is not daycare, Erica. They shouldn't feel comfortable in here."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her for a while now." Ferguson interfered.  
><em>Oh, shut up! <em>I nearly said it out loud. It was two against one, however, so that wouldn't have been a smart move. My eyes darted from Ferguson to Channing and back, they were both waiting for me to say something.

After uttering a pathetic, humorless laugh, I sighed, "I get it."

"I hope you do." Ferguson nodded shortly. Gosh, I felt like a stubborn teen in front of her school's principle. "See you tomorrow, Erica." She grinned smugly, nodding at the door.

"Good day." I gritted my teeth and grimaced faintly before I turned around to finally leave the office. Once I was strolling down the hallway, I shook my head in disagreement, my thoughts occupied by all the reasons why I despised Joan Ferguson. All I saw were white sneakers and blue trousers as I kept my eyes pointed at the floor. My ears paid more attention to what was happening around me. I heard the voice of Simone Slater as she and Bea Smith passed me, "You beat her up pretty badly, didn't know you had that in you.."

I looked up just in time to see some nasty bruises on Bea's face. She had been part of the riot.. but she hadn't done the harm to Franky, right? There were enough women on the medical unit for Simone to talk about. No, Bea couldn't have..  
>It did put me to thinking, however. Especially when I saw the red-haired woman enter Ferguson's office. The most ridiculous ideas of Ferguson and Smith playing against Franky together came to my mind. The rush of thoughts ended with the bittersweet fact that I'd come home to an empty house.<p>

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><p><strong>It might not always look like it, but I actually have a plan for where this is heading!<br>I hope you're still following the story as we not so patiently wait for season 3.  
>Which brings me to a little question to you all: <strong>**_if_**** Erica'd return, how would you see it happen? (I'm quite curious, so put your thoughts in a review? Along with your commentary, of course)**

**Well, hopefully until next chapter!  
>Have a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!<strong>

**x**


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